


Papa Jim

by DonnieTheFu



Series: Little Freddie [5]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Freddie Has Kids, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bullying, Cute, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Family, Family Bonding, Father-Son Relationship, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Light Angst, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Period-Typical Homophobia, Romance, Spanking, Sweet, Teasing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2020-11-26 06:41:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20925833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DonnieTheFu/pseuds/DonnieTheFu
Summary: Sequel to Daddy FreddieFreddie takes Jim to meet his children, but it isn't quite what Jim was expecting.Soon, Jim finds himself unexpectedly thrown into the middle of Freddie's chaotic family life, raising two children and ten cats.There are some ups and downs along the way, but Freddie is right there by his side holding his hand, ready to take on the world together and face it all.





	1. Freddie's Children

**Author's Note:**

> I would really appreciate no criticism (constructive or otherwise), or negativity in the comments section, please. This is just my hobby that I do for fun. Thank you! :)
> 
> Copyright © May 20, 2020 DonnieTheFu All Rights Reserved
> 
> ***DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Any semblance between original characters and real persons, living or dead, is coincidental. The author in no way represents the companies, corporations, or brands mentioned in this work. The likeness of historical/famous figures have been used fictitiously; the author does not speak for or represent these people. All opinions expressed in this work are the author’s, or fictional.***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the sequel to my other story, Daddy Freddie. It takes place about 5 years later in 1985 before Live Aid.
> 
> Also I had to use a little bit of artistic license in regards to Freddie's cats. Only two were living at Garden Lodge with Freddie when he first met Jim, but I wanted to include all of them just for fun.

**London - 1985**

The streets of London whipped by outside the window. Jim shifted in his seat, drying his sweaty palms on the legs of his trousers for about the millionth time. For once he was glad he and Freddie weren't holding hands so Freddie wouldn't know just how nervous he was. Freddie sat in the back seat beside him, wearing his dark sunglasses, cool as a cucumber. He gave Jim a closed lip smile.

"Jim, darling, I just want you to know, I don't usually do this sort of thing- let somebody meet my children, unless I'm absolutely sure about that person. But I haven't any reservations at all about you, dear."

"Well, I'm-I'm honored, Freddie. Truly I am. I can't wait to meet them," Jim said. Then he said, "What are their names?"

"Well there's Dorothy, Tiffany, Tom, Jerry, Delilah, Goliath, Lily, Miko, Oscar, Romeo, Freddie, and Kash," Freddie ticked off the names on his fingers. "The last two are mine biologically. Their mother, Mary, lives just next door and we share joint custody. All the others have been adopted from shelters." _Shelters? _Jim thought. In Ireland they were usually called orphanages, but he knew from his time here that things were sometimes called a bit differently in England than in other parts.

"Don't worry, darling. The children are going to absolutely adore you. I'm sure of it," Freddie reassured him. He took Jim's hand then and brought it to his lips for a kiss.

*******

After about twenty minutes, the driver pulled up to a gate in a long, high, brick wall. They got out and Freddie unlocked the gate, leading Jim through. 1 Logan Place, affectionately known as "Garden Lodge" by Freddie, was an acre of land right in the heart of busy Kensington, with a large two-storey, eight-bedroom Neo-Georgian home with large bay windows, surrounded by landscaped grounds and a beautiful, lush English garden.

Coming through the front door, they entered a large, light hallway with an elegant wide staircase. To the left and right were a set of double doors. Freddie and Jim went over to the doors on the right. Freddie laid his hand on one of the doorknobs.

"Ready?" Freddie asked. Jim took in a deep breath and blew it out slowly, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. He nodded his head. Freddie opened the door and the sight that met Jim's eyes wasn't at all what he had been expecting. It was a spectacularly spacious room, with a parquet floor and expansive windows hung with floor to ceiling racing-green curtains, gazing out over the garden. There were two children (of the human species). A boy who looked to be about eleven, and was an astonishing exact replica of his father, was sat on a Chippendale Suite in the corner stroking a scrawny dark brown kitten in his lap. And a little girl of about four or five sat on the floor at his feet playing with a fat, fluffy, lovely tortoiseshell. The little girl also heavily favored her father, with deep olive skin, dark brown eyes, and long dark curls. All of the other "children" happened to be of the feline persuasion; mostly mix-breeds of all different colors and sizes.

"Daddy!" the little girl squealed in delight, running towards Freddie. Freddie picked her up and planted a big kiss on her cheek.

"You have a lovely home. And even lovelier children," Jim said, admiring the little girl in Freddie's arms.

"Children, I want you to meet Jim. He's my special good friend," Freddie said. This statement was met by a silence in which Jim shuffled his feet nervously. Perhaps this wasn't going to go as well as he had hoped.

"Well, children, what do you say?" Freddie prompted. The little girl held out her hand to Jim.

"Hullo, Jim." Jim shook her hand and the little girl reached out to him so he took her in his arms.

"Hullo," he said. "And what's your name, princess?"

"Kash," she replied, playing with the buttons on Jim's shirt.

"Kashmira, actually," Freddie told him. "She's named for my younger sister."

"And you must be Freddie," Jim said to the boy in the corner.

"Hullo," the boy said politely, though he didn't offer his hand. Jim could see that the boy not only took after his father in looks, but personality as well - quiet, shy, reserved.

"I hope we're going to be seeing a lot of Jim around here," Freddie said. "And he may even come to stay with us sometimes." The little girl gasped with happiness.

"You mean like a sleep-over?"

"Well, sort-of," Freddie agreed, nodding his head. "Would you like that?"

"Must we call him Jim? Or can't we call him Papa Jim?" the little girl asked. The boy in the corner rolled his eyes.

"Well, that's up to Jim. I'm not sure he'd be comfortable with that." The little girl put her hands on Jim's cheeks and Jim smiled down at her.

"You may call me whatever you'd like, sweetheart," he said. Then the little girl wanted down so Jim set her on the floor, and she ran over and gathered up the tortoiseshell under the front legs and dragged her across the floor towards Jim. Jim was quite surprised the cats tolerated such handling.

"This is Delilah." Then she did a dramatic stage whisper to Jim, "She's daddy's favorite, but you musn't tell the others."

"Oh, right," Jim said. He took the feline's paw in his hand and shook it. "How do you do there, Delilah?" The little girl laughed, clearly pleased. The cat let out a long, low growl.

"I guess the pleasure's all yours," Freddie said with a laugh, smoothing his moustache. This scenario was repeated until Jim had met all the cats. Last of all the little girl came to take the kitten with the dark brown coat from her brother's lap.

"Don't, Kash! You're going to hurt him," the boy scolded.

"I won't hurt him." But she gathered the kitten much more carefully in her arms than she had the others.

"This is Goliath," she said, bringing him over for Jim to see. The kitten gave the puniest of squeaks as Jim reached a hand down to gently scratch the fur on his tiny back.

"Freddie says Goliath is his," she told him. "But Daddy told him that he's mine too and that he has to share."

"God, Kash, shut up!" the boy shouted, hurling a throw pillow, though not directly at his sister. "You don't have to tell everybody everything!"

"Hey! Don't tell your sister to shut up," Freddie snapped his fingers, reprimanding the boy. "Tell her you're sorry."

"Sorry," the boy mumbled, his arms folded across his chest.

"Pick the pillow up and put it back," Freddie told him. "We don't throw things in this household, young man." The boy groaned, but got up as he was told and retrieved the pillow, putting it back in its rightful place.

"Sorry," Freddie apologized to Jim. "He must've had a hard day at school or something."

"Oh no, Freddie. It's fine. It's fine. No need to apologize," Jim said.

*******

Later that night Freddie and his driver took Jim back home in Freddie's car. Freddie walked Jim to the front door and they stood outside for a moment to talk.

"Thank you so much for letting me meet your children. You don't know how much it means to me, that you trust me like that."

"Of course, Jim, darling. I wanted you to meet them," Freddie said. "You're family now. And I really meant what I said back there in front of the children. I hope you'll be coming around quite a lot from now on."

"I will, if you'll have me," Jim told him.

"I'll have you," Freddie replied looking deeply, lovingly into Jim's eyes. He put his hand behind Jim's head and they shared a passionate, heart-felt kiss. Freddie held onto Jim's hand as he walked away until their fingers slipped out of each other's grasp. Then he turned and walked back to his car and they parted ways for the night.


	2. Cat Chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ♫ And then you make me slightly mad, when you pee all over my Chippendale suite ♫

**Here's a picture of what I thought Little Freddie might look like. Freddie Mercury is the little boy in the middle.**

** **

After a few months, during which time Freddie and Jim's love for each other had only strengthened, Jim was to get his first true taste of family life. One particular weekend, Mary had unexpectedly had to go out of town, Phoebe and Joe were going to be away for most of the day on an errand, and Freddie had to work at the studio. When Freddie had voiced his dilemma to Jim, he had surprised even himself when he immediately volunteered to watch the children (and the cats).

"Are you sure, darling? I mean I don't want you to do anything at all that you're not absolutely comfortable doing."

"No, no, it's fine. I've got to get used to the ends and outs of domestic life after all," Jim said. Freddie had smiled then and gave Jim a peck on the lips.

And so Jim had arrived on Saturday morning, ten o'clock on the dot.

"Oh God, Jim, darling, I can't even tell you how much I appreciate this. And you're sure you're alright with this? You're sure you don't mind? I mean the cats basically keep themselves, but the other two can be quite the handful sometimes."

"No, no, Freddie. I-I'm sure. I want to help," Jim told him.

"Well, alright then, if you're sure. The only thing you've really got to know, Jim, is to just keep these two doors here closed," Freddie said, indicating the double doors to the right they had come through that first night when Jim had met all of Freddie's "children". "Otherwise if the cats get in there unsupervised, they'll piss all over the damn place."

"Oh, well that seems easy enough. The doors are shut now, so I just won't open them," Jim said.

"Right. It's just as easy as that, darling," Freddie told him. "It'll only be for a few hours and I'll call in around noon just to see how you're getting on. And I swear I'll make it up to you, darling."

"Oh, I know you will," Jim grinned flirtatiously, allowing his eyes to travel south of Freddie's waistline. Freddie laughed.

"Cheeky bastard," he replied with a smile and he couldn't help but smack Jim playfully on the arse before he walked away.

"Children," Freddie said, coming over to Kashmira and Little Freddie who were sat on the sofa. "I've got to go into the studio for a little while but Jim will be here to look after you."

"We don't need a babysitter," Little Freddie huffed.

"Don't be ridiculous. Even I have a babysitter. Two, in fact," Freddie said, looking over at Phoebe and Joe, who were also busily preparing to leave to go on their errand for the day. They both laughed, along with Freddie. Little Freddie just rolled his eyes at his father's joke. Freddie turned back to his children, "Now look here, you're to be on your best behavior and mind Jim just as you would mind me if I were here. You both know the rules and what you are and aren't allowed to do, so don't go trying to trick poor Jim here. He's going to give me a full account when I return. So that means no fighting and no arguing between the two of you. Kash, what's the rule about crayons and markers?"

"Um...they're for paper only," she said with a decisive nod of her head.

"Right. And Freddie don't forget, you're to take the garbage out to the bin, wash up the dishes, and tidy your room. I've already told Phoebe he's not to do them for you. They're your chores."

"Ugh! But why?" Little Freddie complained.

"Why? Because I'm your father and I said so. And that's enough reason for you. Phoebe's got quite enough on his plate as it is. It doesn’t do you any harm to help him out round the house every once in a great while."

"Wha-but Daddy! It's the weekend!"

"And? If you'd done them yesterday like I asked, you wouldn't have to do them today now would you?"

"Why do I always have to do everything? What about Kash? You never make her do anything."

“Kash has her own small chores that she does. Besides you’re a great big boy, eleven years old, and Kash is just a little girl. And that’s quite enough back-chat from you, young man,” Freddie said, pointing his finger at him.

“Ugh! It’s so unfair!” Little Freddie pouted.

“Right. You go to your room and don’t come down again until you’ve had a change of attitude.” So with a final ugh! Little Freddie stamped up the stairs towards his room.

“And you had best not slam that door, or I swear when Phoebe returns he and I will come straight up there and take it right off the hinges,” Freddie told him. “And while you’re up there you can do your homework as well. I know you haven’t even started on it yet, but you’d jolly well better have it all done by the time I get back from the studio, or otherwise there won’t be any games or TV for you for a long while. Do you hear me, young man?” Just then there was the closing of the bedroom door. Hard, but not a slam exactly. Freddie turned towards Jim.

“I’m so sorry. Mary and I have been having quite a lot of trouble out of him lately. I mean we’ve been having just the hardest time with him. I try to be patient with him, I really do, but sometimes he really tests me. I mean my God, sometimes I swear you’d think I’d bloody asked him to walk across a bed of hot coals or something. Some days he’s an absolute angel, and then other days he can give us a real devil of a time. And we never know which one it’s going to be when he wakes up in the morning. Feels like we’re walking about on eggshells here most of the time. It's all just a part of growing up I suppose, testing the limits as it were. But you know, I don’t believe I ever behaved that way. Course, then again, I wasn’t really home with my parents most of the time at that age. I was away at boarding school and I had nuns with rulers and headmasters with canes always chasing after me, so I guess they just sort of beat that kind of thing right out of me.” Freddie laughed then, but behind the laughter, Jim could see a sort of deep hurt in his eyes. “Anyways, enough of that.” Freddie walked over to where a bunch of the cats had gathered into a group.

“Listen to me, lovies, listen. Daddy’s got to pop into the studio for a few hours, but Jim’s here to take care of you. Remember to use your litter tray, not the curtains, or the toaster, Tiffany, thank you very much. Romeo, Goliath, Miko – no fighting. And no picking on poor Delilah. And when I come home, if you’ve all been very, very good, then I’ll give you each an extra special treat. How does that sound?” The cats looked up at him and meowed their agreement. “Excellent!” Freddie turned back to Jim.

“Alright, darling, well I’d best leave you to it then. Otherwise Brian and the others will be phoning me wondering where the hell I am. Just…just leave Freddie up there in his room. He’ll cool down in a bit and come round. You’ll see.” Freddie came over and took Kashmira into his arms with an exaggerated groan.

"There's Daddy's best girl. Getting so big, so heavy," he said. "Listen, be a good girl for Jim, alright? And help him all you can." She nodded her head. "Give us a kiss, then." She leant forward and gave him the biggest kiss right on the lips. "Awww, yours are the best kisses in all the world, sweetheart," he told her, hugging her tight and rubbing her back. Then he set back down. "Ok." Just before going out the door, Freddie turned back to speak to his cats one last time.

“Goodbye, my babies. Be good for Jim. Daddy’ll see you in a little while.”

But just as soon as Freddie had shut the door behind him, that’s when things started to go pear-shaped.

Unbeknownst to Jim, while Freddie and he had still been talking, Kashmira had gone upstairs to her brother’s room. Little Freddie was laying on his bed sulking angrily.

“Get out of my room, Kash! Or I’ll tell, Daddy!’ He shouted at her.

“Freddie, I’m hungry,” she said to him a bit pitifully with a little frown.

“Well, then go and pour yourself a bowl of cereal or something, Kash,” he’d told her dismissively.

And so when Jim had turned around, Kashmira was no longer sitting on the sofa. He walked a little further on into the kitchen, and there he was witness to the first of many disasters he was to endure that day.

Kashmira was on her knees on the kitchen table. Spread out between two bowls and across the entire kitchen table, were the contents of a box of breakfast cereal and a carton of milk. The cats all crouched lapping at a puddle that was quickly spreading across the floor.

"I made breakfast," she said cheerfully, clearly proud of her efforts. Jim was in stunned silence, but somehow managed to find his voice.

"That-that looks just lovely, sweetheart. But maybe we should think about getting that cleaned up a bit, alright?" Jim set Kashmira on the floor, then grabbed a roll of paper towels to begin cleaning up the mess. Once that was accomplished, he and Kashmira sat down and ate what cereal and milk she had actually managed to get into the two bowls. He wasn't even hungry, but he forced himself to eat every last bite, seeing how much it pleased the little girl. When they were finished he took the two bowls over to the sink to wash up. There weren't that many more dishes in the sink needing to be washed up so he thought he might as well clear those away as well. He knew Freddie had told Little Freddie to wash the dishes, but he thought this small act of kindness might improve his relationship with Little Freddie which seemed to be for whatever reason stuck in some sort of winter freeze. It could be their little secret. Afterwards he looked around for Kashmira, but she had moved into the sitting room now and was laying on her stomach on the sofa coloring a piece of paper with her crayons and markers.

"Look, I drew you a picture," she told him, when he came close. "See this is you and this is Daddy." Two crudely drawn stick men figures appeared to hold hands on the page. "Oh, thank you, sweetheart. That is such a pretty thing," Jim said, taking the drawing from her. But apparently the markers had bled through the paper and a replica of the scene was now etched onto the white leather of Freddie's beautiful sitting room sofa.

"Oops," the little girl said looking down. _Oh! Oh! _Jim was horrified. He went immediately and began a desperate search through all the rooms. _What would get marker out of leather?_ Finally, he came upon a bottle of white vinegar and other cleaning supplies. He blotted at the ink with a rag soaked in the vinegar and then began scrubbing, scrubbing until his arms ached. Thank God the ink was beginning to come out but the process would have to be repeated several times until it would be completely removed.

Just then Little Freddie was coming back downstairs. He noticed that Jim had left the door open to the little room that contained the cleaning supplies. This was also the room where the extra rolls of toilet tissue happened to be kept. He went in and casually knocked the rolls of the toilet paper onto the ground into the waiting claws of the cats. Just then the telephone rang so Little Freddie snuck out of the doorway and back up the stairs a little ways. He crouched behind the banister to watch what would happen.

Jim went to answer the telephone. It was Freddie calling. Jim looked up at the clock on the wall. _Was it really noon already?_

"Hello, Jim, darling. How are things going?"

"Oh, everything's fine here, Freddie. Just fine," Jim said. Behind his back a cat darted past chasing a roll of toilet paper.

“Wonderful, darling. I knew it would be.” Another cat darted past Jim’s back in the opposite direction. Jim whipped around and the sight that met him caused an involuntary croak to leave his throat before he could stop himself. The entire sitting room was covered in a deep layer of pristine snowflakes, only they weren’t snowflakes, they were shreds of toilet tissue.

“Jim, darling, what was that sound? Are you sure you’re alright?” For a moment Jim had forgotten Freddie was still on the line; forgotten that the phone was even in his hand in fact.

“Oh-Uh, yes, everything’s fine here, just like I said,” he told him.

“Ok, well look, darling. I’d better get off. Phoebe and Liza (Joe) should be arriving back there soon, and I’ll be home in about another hour or so."

“Alright, goodbye.” Jim hung up the phone, still in a state of shock. _Alright, first things first_, he said to himself. He had to finish getting the ink out of the sofa’s leather upholstery before the stain set. Then he could grab a bin liner and stuff as many armfuls of the shredded toilet tissue he could gather into that. After that, he could hoover up the rest. It didn’t seem so bad when he broke it down into small steps like that. _If only nothing else would go wrong._ But Little Freddie had other ideas. Seeing that Jim had his back turned clearing away the other two catastrophes, he snuck by behind him and into the hallway. He looked both ways first then reached an arm over and ever so carefully opened one of the doors, the doors his father had told Jim must be kept closed. Delilah and some of the other cats immediately ran into the room. But when Little Freddie turned around, there was Kashmira, hands on hips.

“Freddie, what are you doing? Daddy told Papa Jim the cats aren’t allowed in there.”

“Stop calling him that, Kash. He’s not your papa.”

“Yes, he is!” she shouted back defiantly.

“Whatever, Kash, just mind your own business for once. Go play with your dolls or something and stop being such a little telltale all the time.” And then he walked away. Little Freddie’s words had hurt Kashmira, but she didn’t have time to think about that. She had to help Papa Jim. She went into the room and there was Delilah peeing all over Freddie’s Chippendale Suite. She gasped, putting her hands over her mouth.

“No, Delilah, no! Get down from there!” she said, clapping her hands. She went over and gathered Delilah up under the front legs and dragged her off the suite and across the floor towards the door.

‘You’re such a naughty kitty!” she scolded, her voice strained from the effort. Once Delilah had been removed from the room, she went back for another one of the cats. She was trying her best, but things were certainly not going in her favor. As soon as she’d got one cat out of the room, another one would run right back in.

Jim was oblivious to all this as he was still in the sitting room working on the sofa. He hadn’t even begun to clean up the toilet tissue mess yet. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with an arm, and looked up at the clock. _Oh lord_, Freddie would be getting home anytime now. He went back to scrubbing.

*******

This was about the state of affairs when Freddie, Phoebe, and Joe arrived home a short while later. Freddie walked in the door first.

"Jim, darling, I'm home!" he called. He came into the sitting room and found Jim with a bin liner in one hand and a hoover in the other, frantically trying to clear away the toilet tissue disaster.

"Oh. Freddie," Jim said, looking up when he noticed Freddie had come into the room. Freddie couldn't help but find the whole thing a bit hilarious.

"Oh my God. You poor thing. What the hell happened?" Kashmira came and tugged on the leg of Freddie's trousers.

"Daddy! Daddy!"

“What is it, honey?" he asked looking down at her.

"Daddy, please don’t be mad at Papa Jim,” she begged with tears in her eyes. “It wasn’t his fault. Freddie did it.”

"Freddie did what?" Kashmira took him by the hand and led him back into the hallway. That's when Freddie noticed the open door. He walked in and stood there surveying the damage. The curtains, not to mention his Chippendale Suite, were ruined, the ammonia in the cat’s urine having left behind a foul odor and bleach like stains. Jim came to stand beside Freddie in the doorway.

"Oh, heaven help me, Freddie…I-I…" But Freddie wasn't even listening to him. He went out of the room and into the hallway. His son was standing nervously at the top of the staircase.

“Come here,” he told him calmly but firmly, beckoning him with his finger. Little Freddie came down the staircase as slowly as possible and stood in front of his father.

“Are you the one who’s done this? Did you purposely open that door and let the cats in there to give Jim a hard time?” Little Freddie didn’t say anything, but the answer was written all over his face.

“And what about this mess with the toilet tissue? I suppose you had a hand in that as well, huh?” Little Freddie started to cry then, his chin wobbling.

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m sorry.”

“Sit down right there on those stairs, young man, and don’t move until I get back,” Freddie told him.

*******

It was a quiet ride back to Jim's house, neither of them knowing quite what to say to the other.

When the driver pulled up outside Jim's flat, they both got out and Freddie walked him to the door like always. They stood there awkwardly for a moment, heads down. Then Jim spoke.

"I'm so sorry about what happened, Freddie. About your beautiful curtains and furniture. If only I'd been paying closer attention..." But Freddie gathered him in a giant hug, holding him in his arms.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous. What are you apologizing for? Silly thing," Freddie said with what sounded like a small sniff. "It's all my fault, really. I'm the one who should be apologizing. I was being selfish. I should never have left you alone with them for so long, not with it being your first time. And I swear I just don't know what the hell's gotten into Freddie. He's never done anything like this, I mean never."

"What's gotten into him, Freddie," Jim began, "is just what you said - he's growing up. Eleven's a hard age to be, but it's just a phase. He'll grow out of it, and I know he's going to turn out to be a very nice young man, just like his father."

"So do you forgive me then? I thought after all that you'd run straight for the hills and never come back. But I really hope you won't. The curtains and furniture can easily be replaced, but I couldn't ever replace you, dear."

"Don't be daft, it'd take a lot more than that to get rid of me. I'm in this thing for the long haul," Jim told him. "And do you forgive me?"

"Oh, Jim, darling, I've already told you. There's nothing to forgive." Freddie pulled back then to look into Jim's face.

"I want you to come over tomorrow for dinner, please. I mean, that is, if you want to. It's going to be my special treat for you. I'm going to cook the whole thing all on my own, no help from Liza or Phoebe whatsoever."

"Oh, saints preserve us, I hope Liza and Phoebe have the number for the fire brigade on hand. Otherwise all of London might go up in flames."

"Oh, fuck off," Freddie said with a laugh, punching Jim playfully in the arm.

"No, I'd love to come. We're going to make a housewife out of you yet," Jim said, pulling Freddie close.

"Oh, you're one to talk. Though I did quite fancy the look of you with that hoover this afternoon, I tell ya," Freddie laughed.

“Really?”

“Yeah…” He leaned in and gave Jim a long, slow kiss on the lips. "Shall we say, what, five o'clock for dinner tomorrow?"

"Five o'clock sounds just perfect, Freddie. I'll be there."

"Great, I'll be looking for you, then," Freddie said. He gave Jim a final peck on the lips and then returned to his car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *WARNING* there's going to be the parental spanking of a child (not abusive) in the next chapter, so if that's not your thing or if it's going to bother you, then you may not want to read ahead. But there will also be some fluff afterwards to make up for it.


	3. Let Your Freak Flag Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie cooks dinner for Jim
> 
> Also Freddie and Little Freddie have a heartfelt father/son talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *WARNING* there's going to be the parental spanking of a child (not abusive) in this chapter, so if that's not your thing or if it's going to bother you, then you may not want to read ahead. But there will also be some fluff afterwards to make up for it.

Little Freddie had not gotten a spanking in quite a long while now. But playing those two pranks on Jim proved to be his downfall. When Freddie returned home, he found Phoebe and Joe scrubbing at the moire silk of the curtains, trying to get the stains out.

"No. The both of you stop what you're doing right this instant, and don't touch another thing. Freddie's about to clean up every bit of this," he told them. Then he had taken Little Freddie by the hand, and taken him right upstairs and given him a good, hard spanking. And afterwards, he made Little Freddie clean up both the messes downstairs all by himself, with direction from Phoebe. Then after dinner, Little Freddie was sent straight to bed, even though it wasn't even dark outside yet. And no allowance, dessert, games, sweets, or television for an entire week. The next morning - a miracle! It was as if a metamorphosis had taken place over night, and a new child had emerged. Little Freddie was an obedient, polite, well-behaved little boy. He was even kind to his little sister. And Freddie hoped that he had set Little Freddie straight for a long while, and he would not need to take such drastic measures to correct his behaviour again.

*******

When Freddie came into the kitchen to begin cooking dinner for Jim, Phoebe had brought in the largest fire extinguisher he could find.

"Is this your idea of a joke, darling?" Freddie had asked, laughing. "I'm glad to see you're so confident in my abilities."

"Well, safety first, Freddie," Phoebe said, only half-joking. Freddie couldn't even figure out how to use the microwave for God's sake, how the hell was he going to prepare an entire meal by himself? _Just give it five minutes_, Phoebe thought to himself. _Give it five minutes and Freddie would get bored as he always did and say, "Right, dear, that's enough. Perhaps you'd better do the rest", and then go off for a cup of tea. _But this time Freddie seemed determined to see things through. And it was a good thing Phoebe and Joe were there because Freddie was very easily distracted and would forget straight out what he was doing. So when Freddie would turn his back, Phoebe and Joe were forever turning the flame up or down on the stove, or secretly flipping this, or surreptitiously stirring that. Adding a dash of salt here, or a pinch other seasoning there, when Freddie was looking the other way. Thank God he hadn't decided to make anything too complicated. When asked what he wanted to prepare he had stated, "Something simple yet elegant, dear," and had at last settled on one of his childhood favourites, a curry called chicken dhansak, as the preferred dish for the evening. Once that was accomplished, Freddie had decided he would like a nice salad to go along with the meal, but he had completely bungled the whole thing. How did one possibly mess up a small dinner salad - the simplest of dishes? But Freddie had managed to do just that somehow. So Phoebe and Joe had used Freddie's ability to be easily distracted to their advantage.

"So, Freddie...," Joe began.

"Yes, dear, what is it?"

"What is this-this charity thing you and the rest of the band are doing?"

"What, you mean Live Aid?" Freddie asked. When Freddie turned away Phoebe snuck over and feverishly began fixing the salad.

"Well, it's a charity concert to raise relief funds for the famine in Ethiopia. Now where did I put that..." Freddie was about to turn around again and catch Phoebe with his hand in the cookie jar, or in this case, the salad bowl.

"E-Ethiopia, you say?" Joe said, keeping Freddie looking his way, while he motioned to Phoebe to hurry it up. "And where's that exactly?"

"Hell if I know, darling, I believe it's somewhere in Africa." When Freddie turned around Phoebe was standing there with his hands clasped casually behind his back, smiling broadly. Freddie looked between the two of them.

"What is this? What are the two of you scheming at?"

"Oh, we're not scheming at anything, Freddie. We're just standing here admiring your skill. Who knew you had such talent in the culinary arts?"

"Well, to not blow my own trumpet or anything, but I think I've done well. Perhaps I should do this sort of thing more often."

"No, no, no!" Phoebe and Joe interjected. Then Phoebe gave a laugh.

"I just mean, if you started preparing all your own meals, you'd put Liza and I right out of a job." Luckily Freddie wasn't paying that much attention, he had moved on to setting the table, which he also insisted on doing all by himself. But this was something he was actually very good at, making sure everything was perfect and laid out just so. He definitely had an eye for aesthetics and what was pleasing to the eye.

Finally, Jim arrived. He had dressed up for the occasion in a tasteful grey suit that complimented him, and had also brought a bouquet of yellow freesias, Freddie's favorite. He also had with him a small duffel/gym bag because when they'd spoken on the phone Freddie had told him, "And be sure and bring a bag of your things with you - you're staying the night." Freddie threw his arms around him and gave him a big kiss.

"Oh my, darling, you didn't have to get all dressed up for me! Though I must say you do look quite smart in that suit. You clean up rather well." He was delighted by the flowers and put them in a vase with water straightway, right out in the main hallway so everyone could see. Then he showed Jim up to his bedroom. Freddie had already picked out wardrobes for Jim to use in the dressing area, and had cleared all of his things from one of the drawers.

"That's for your little bits and pieces," he told him. They shared another kiss and then went back downstairs to the dining room. Kashmira was on her knees in one of the chairs drawing on a piece of paper with her crayons and markers. Jim came and sat down beside her and when she turned and noticed him, her face broke out into a huge smile.

"Papa Jim!" she said. She climbed down out of her chair and came and gave him a big hug.

"Well, I'd better go and call Freddie down for dinner," Freddie said to Jim. "Wish me luck." 

Little Freddie was lying on his bed, arms folded beneath his head, staring up at the ceiling, not much else for him to do, he'd just about been grounded for a week from everything else.

"Dinner's ready, so wash your hands and come down to eat. Jim and Kash are already waiting downstairs," Freddie told him. "I've made chicken dhansak. I know that's one of your favorites."

"I don't want to eat," Little Freddie said, and there was that churlish attitude in his voice again.

"Well, why ever not?"

"I'm not hungry."

"You haven't eaten anything all afternoon, I know you've surely got to be hungry by now."

"I just don't want to."

"Well it wasn't an invitation, young man," Freddie told him at last. "Go wash your hands and come down to eat. You've got five minutes." The last thing Freddie heard as he was walking away was an _ugh!_ from his son's bedroom.

Back downstairs, Kashmira had returned to her drawing and had gone into full on reporter-woman mode.

"Freddie's in big trouble," she said to Jim. "He got a spanking and Daddy made him clean up the whole house all by himself. Then he got sent to bed early, and Daddy said no allowance, dessert, games, sweets, or television for him for an entire week." Jim felt terrible. That was the last thing he'd wanted to happen. Now Little Freddie really would hate him.

"Well, we'll just have to do our best to cheer him up then, won't we?" he said, for lack of anything better to say.

"I never get into trouble. Daddy never spanks me because I'm always a good little girl," Kashmira told him.

"Oh yes, he does, Kash!" Little Freddie was just then coming into the dining room.

["What about that time you stole one of Mummy's lipsticks and drew all over the bathroom mirror?"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22455619/chapters/53655625)

"We don't talk about that, Freddie," Kashmira said, pursing her lips. _Five going on fifteen, this one,_ Jim thought to himself. Once everyone was seated, Freddie brought in the food.

"This is one of my favorites. It's a curry called chicken dhansak. And I've done this all by myself. Phoebe and Liza didn't help me with it one bit." Behind his back Phoebe and Joe looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

"Well, it looks lovely, Freddie," Jim said with a smile.

The whole thing, however, was turning out to be quite a miserable affair, due to Little Freddie's attitude. He was surly and ill-tempered throughout the entire meal, until Freddie took him out into the hallway for a quick little chat.

"Would you like an encore of last night's performance? You know what I mean," Freddie said to him.

"No," Little Freddie answered, arms crossed over his chest.

"Well then lose the attitude, young man. Sit your bottom down in that chair and eat your food. Now, I'm not going to tell you again. And you're to apologize to Jim for what you did yesterday." They came and sat back down at the table, Little Freddie with his arms still crossed over his chest.

"Haven't you something you'd like to say to Jim?" Freddie prompted.

"No," Little Freddie answered matter-of-factly.

"No? Are you quite sure about that?" Freddie asked him, giving him a stern look. He was going to kill him.

"Actually, I do," Little Freddie said at last, looking over at Jim. "My mummy hates you and so do I. She's still in love with my daddy and you're just trying to take him away from us. But it's not going to work, just so you know. They might get back together again if it weren't for you. I wish you'd go away and never come back!" Little Freddie shouted. There was a stunned silence after that, in which nobody made a sound, except for Kashmira who gave a little gasp, putting her hands over her mouth.

"Right. You go to your room. Now," Freddie told him. Little Freddie had begun to cry now.

"And I hate you too! You're always sending me to my room, sending me away when he's here. I wish I could just go and live with Mummy forever and never have to see you again." He got up abruptly knocking his chair over in the process, and stormed up the stairs to his room, slamming the door.

"Excuse me," Freddie said, wiping his mouth on his napkin. He stood up from the table and went upstairs to his son's room. Little Freddie was facing away from the doorway, curled up on his side on his bed, crying into his pillow. But instead of punishing him, Freddie came and sat down beside him on the side of his bed.

"Just go away and leave me alone!" Little Freddie cried.

"No, I'm not going to leave you alone. Not when you're upset like this," Freddie told him in a gentle voice. Then he said, "Freddie, what made you say such cruel, hurtful things to Jim, hmm?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Little Freddie said.

"Well, we have to talk about it. We don't have a choice." Freddie stretched out on the bed beside him with his back resting against the headboard. "I'll just wait right here then, until you do feel like talking about it. We've got all night."

"No, you can't. Kash and Jim are waiting for you downstairs."

"Kash and Jim can take care of themselves for a little while. I'm more concerned about you right now."

"Well, I'm not ever going to want to talk about it. So you'll just have to stay there forever."

"Hmm, forever's quite a long time. And here I was thinking we were going to get to have dessert. There's cherry-almond cake and ice cream. But I guess you and I are just going to have to miss out," Freddie told him. He leant over closer to his son.

"Listen, Freddie, it's true - your mummy and I both still love each other dearly, and I think it's safe to say we always will. But the love I have for your mummy is different than the love I have for Jim. I love Brian, Roger, John, Phoebe, and Liza as well and that's another sort of love altogether. There are many different kinds of love," Freddie explained. "And no matter who else I love, I'm always going to love you and Kash, no matter what. You know that. There's nothing that could ever change or take away my love for you. I would do anything for you, you understand? I would move heaven and earth. Even if you don't love me back..." But from Little Freddie there was no reply.

"But I don't really think this has much to do with Jim at all, actually. I think there's something else going on here. Come on now, and tell me what this is all about, huh." Finally, Little Freddie spoke.

"But why can't you and Mummy get back together? Why can't you be normal? Why do have to be gay?" And now Freddie saw clearly what the trouble was.

"So that's it then. Somebody's been teasing you, haven't they? Some of the boys at school?"

"The say you're gay, so I must be gay too. They're always calling me Freddie The Fag, Freddie The Flag." He wiped his eyes. "But I-I'm not gay. I like girls." Freddie gave a heavy sigh.

"Some people like to label things too much nowadays. Gay, bisexual, straight. I don't necessarily consider myself any of those things. I just love who I love. I'm just me, you know. And I don't give a damn what people think, to be honest," Freddie told him. "It's the same way with our music. If we make a certain song that we like, there are always people out there that are going to be trying to put it into a certain category - rock, funk, disco, pop. But I think, if you hear a song, and it's a good song, then what does it matter what category it's in? No matter what category people decide to put it in, it's still going to be a good song. Does that make sense, honey?" Little Freddie nodded his head.

"And as far as being normal goes, I think normal is subjective at best. Everybody's got their own personalities, their own little tics that set them apart from everyone else. And that's the beauty of life, really. Who wants to be like everybody else? I don't. I mean if I were to go along trying to be just like everybody else, trying to conform to everybody else's idea of what they consider normal, then I never would have made it to where I am today. If you worry about what other people think about you, or try to please everybody, you'll end up pleasing nobody, including yourself. You'll never do anything or get anywhere like that. Normal's boring. And life's too short for boring," Freddie told him. "Well let's see here, now. How many friends have you got there at school?"

"I've got lots of friends," Little Freddie said, wiping his eyes again and sitting up. Freddie put his arm around him. "Right. And how many of these, these boys are there, the ones that are teasing you?"

"Five," Little Freddie said.

"Only five?" Freddie asked, raising his eyebrows. "Well, that's not so bad is it? I've got a lot of people who hate me too. And it's a lot more than five, I tell ya. But there are far more people who love my music than hate it. So I don't listen to the critics, because they don't matter. All that matters is what the fans think. We just keep going and, um, as long as the music is still there and as long as the people are still buying the music, then, then it's okay. When they stop buying our records, then I'll say goodbye and do something else. Become a chef or something." Freddie laughed. "No, but anyways, there are always going to be people out there who, for whatever reason, mostly jealousy I think, are going to dislike you and criticize what you're doing. But the most important thing, the thing that matters more than anything else, even more than what the fans want, is to first give yourself what you want. You give yourself what you want first and then there's no limit to the things you can achieve. Give yourself what you want and people are going to sit up and take notice, I'm sure of it. People appreciate self-confidence and vision. You've got to be brave and willing to take risks to get what you want." He took Little Freddie's chin in his hand and tilted his face up to look into his eyes. "You go after your dreams, Freddie. No matter what they are or how big they are, or what anybody else says, you understand? And if they call you a fag, or a flag, or a freak - then as my friend Jimi Hendrix always says, you just let your freak flag fly," Freddie said making his hand into a fist. "Alright?" Little Freddie nodded and hugged himself to Freddie's chest.

"Ok, let's see here now," Freddie said, cuddling Little Freddie closer to him. "What can you say to those arseholes when they start teasing you again? Something that'll really take the wind out of their sails." Freddie thought about it for a moment. "How about this..." And he whispered something into Little Freddie's ear. Little Freddie gasped and then laughed.

"But...but won't I get in trouble at school for saying that?"

"Probably, but who gives a damn? I certainly don't. Some things are worth getting into a little trouble for. And this definitely is." Then Freddie stood up from the bed and put on his sternest face possible, hands on hips. "And now, to make sure you've learned your lesson, young man," he began, scolding Little Freddie with his finger. "I'm going to give you a good, hard-" Little Freddie wilted, sure he was going to get another spanking for the way he'd behaved at dinner and the mean, awful things he'd said to Jim. "-tickling," Freddie finished. And before Little Freddie could react, Freddie already had him pinned down on the bed and was tickling him and tickling him until he was out of breath from laughter and begging him to stop. And for those few moments, it was like old times again between them. Freddie treasured every single second; every second of that precious laughter was the sweetest music to his ears. Because Little Freddie was growing up, and who knew if this might be the last time they'd ever get to play together again like this. Finally, he let Little Freddie up. He took his hand and helped him to his feet. Then he put his arm around his shoulders.

"Come on, now," he said. "Let's go downstairs and have some dessert. What do you say, huh?" Little Freddie nodded his head.

"Ok, Daddy."

"Alright," Freddie said and kissed the top of his head.


	4. Papa Jim To The Rescue

When they came back downstairs, first thing Little Freddie came right over to Jim and apologized all on his own without any prompting from Freddie. Jim could see Little Freddie's face burning red with embarrassment as he hung his head, studying his shoes, and he knew it had taken Little Freddie a tremendous amount of courage to come over and apologize to him that way.

"It's alright, Freddie. You're not to think on it a minute more. Not one minute more," Jim told him kindly. "And actually I suppose it was pretty funny seeing the cats going after the toilet paper that way." That at least got the tiniest of grins and a half-suppressed snort of laughter out of Little Freddie, who glanced shyly up at Jim.

*******

After Freddie had put the children to bed, he and Jim retired to Freddie's bedroom. Freddie locked the door, after first making sure all the cats were out of the room; he didn't like them watching. Then he was all over Jim, his hands, his mouth, touching every inch of exposed flesh as if he couldn't get enough. And he couldn't. Things were already getting pretty hot and heavy between the two of them before they ever even made it to the bed. Freddie tried without much success to get Jim's suit jacket off. Half stumbling, Jim managed to sit down on the edge of the bed, still tangled up in Freddie's kisses and embrace, and finished removing the jacket himself. After a while longer they both finally came up for air. Freddie looked deeply, longingly into Jim's eyes and ran his hand lovingly through his hair, damp with sweat.

"Lie back," he said, gently pressing his hand against Jim's chest. 

"I'll only be just a moment, darling." Freddie disappeared into the bathroom and Jim took a moment to catch his breath and to undo his trousers. When he emerged, Freddie was draped in nothing more than one of his many beautiful Japanese kimono robes. He arched an eyebrow flirtatiously, a wicked grin playing across his face, as he swung one end of the belt in a circle.

"Oh-ho! Mr. Mercury," Jim laughed, resting back on his elbows as Freddie made his slow, teasing approach. But just then there was an urgent knocking at the door.

“Daddy! Daddy!" Freddie and Jim quickly made themselves decent, then Freddie came over and immediately unlocked and opened the door. Little Freddie was standing there sobbing. Freddie took his face in his hands.

"Freddie, what's the matter? Tell me what's happened."

"Goliath's missing! I don't know where he is! I can't find him anywhere!"

"Well, he's got to be around here somewhere. Are you sure you've looked everywhere?" Freddie asked him.

"Yes, I've looked everywhere! Everywhere!" By this time Kashmira had been awakened by all the noise. She came over, rubbing sleep from her eyes with a fist. But when she heard the news about Goliath, she began crying as well.

"You've got to find him, Daddy! You've got to find him!" The boy coughed beside her, choking on his own sobs. Now Freddie had two crying children on his hands.

"Ok. Wait. Wait. Hang on a minute. Let's all just take a moment here and calm down a bit, alright? We're never going to be able to think properly when we're this upset. Do you remember - what do we do when we get upset, hmmm?" Freddie asked the children. "Everybody, let's take a deep breath-" he said, breathing in a lungful of air. He looked over at Jim, surprised that he had joined in with the breathing exercise as well. Then he looked back at the children. "-and blow it out slowly," he instructed, releasing the air from his own lungs. "There now. Better?" The children, and Jim, all nodded their heads. "Good. Alright, here's what we're going to do now. I'm going to go wake up Phoebe and Liza, they won't mind, and they'll help us look for Goliath, ok?" The children nodded their heads again. "But now, you've got to keep calm. If you start getting upset, then you're just going to have to sit yourself right down and have a time-out for a moment, because that's not going to help anything. It's only going to make things worse. And we've all got to work together as a team, alright?" Jim stayed with the children while Freddie went to wake Phoebe and Joe.

Then altogether they began a slow, methodical search throughout the entire house, opening cupboards and drawers, and looking and calling for Goliath. Then they combed the garden, but they couldn’t find him there either. They widened the search to the roads around the house. Still no Goliath. They kept searching and searching, but shortly before midnight, Goliath still hadn’t returned. 

Worried by what might have happened to the kitten, the children were becoming frantic. Freddie did his best to console them, and although he tried to hide it, Jim could see the concern in his eyes. Once he’d gotten the children calmed down a bit, Freddie and the others talked about what else to do. Joe suggested putting up ‘lost’ posters in the neighborhood, and Freddie said he would offer a £1000 reward. 

Jim began to feel a panic rising in his own chest but he tried to push it back down and went out into the garden one last time calling for Goliath. Then he heard the tiniest of squeaks. He flew out of the garden in the direction of the sound. There he found Goliath crouched under one of the parked cars in the driveway, shaking. He picked him up and went into the house. Everybody was over the moon with happiness.

As soon as he saw what Jim was holding, Little Freddie broke down into tears again, but this time they were tears of pure joy. He was sobbing open-mouthed, bawling his eyes out as he walked over slowly and wrapped his arms around Jim.

"Oh, thank you, Jim. Thank so much, Papa Jim," he cried repeatedly, as he clung tightly to Jim's waist. Then Kashmira came over and hugged his legs. Freddie gave him an appreciative smile and put his arms around him as well. And before he knew it Joe and Phoebe had joined in too, Phoebe wiping tears from his eyes, and Jim found himself squeezed tight in the middle of an enormous group hug. At first Jim wasn't quite sure what to do with himself, he really wasn't used to such displays of affection. But then he decided this felt nice. He had never felt so loved and so cared for in all his entire life. This felt like home. And he hoped it would never end.


	5. An Amazing Feeling Coming Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Live Aid & Little Freddie confronts his bullies 😂

The week leading up to Live Aid was Mary’s week with the children. And that was alright because Freddie and the band were overwhelmingly busy, preparing and rehearsing for the upcoming charity concert.

“That’s how we handle it generally – one week at a time,” Freddie had explained to Jim. “Unless I’m away on tour or working in the studio, which I am quite often. Then, of course, they stay with their mother. But it’s not like anything’s set in stone. I mean she lives just right next door. And it’s not like we’re some recently divorced couple, squabbling over custody or vying for time with our children. Even though we’re not together anymore, at least not romantically, we still love and care for one another dearly. Not just because she’s the mother of my children, but also because we’re each other’s best friend. Best friends who decided to have children together, that’s all. I’m sure that sort of thing happens all the time. So anyway, if it’s my week and the children decide they’d like to go and stay the night with Mary, or if it’s her week and they want to come and spend time with me, then it’s ok. Or for instance, if it’s my week and she says to me, _‘I’d like to take the children here’_, or if it’s her week and I say, _‘I’d like to do this with the children’_, then it’s fine, so long as one of the two of us don't have prior engagements or something like that. And at times we do try and do a lot of things together as a family, like go to the zoo, or to the park for a picnic. Though sometimes it is quite difficult. Sometimes the fans and especially the press, just don’t know when to leave bloody well enough alone. And I’m very protective of my children, you know. I don’t allow anybody to get too close. But anyway, this sort of… _ arrangement _ we’ve made, it’s what works for us. She has her freedom and I have mine, so to speak. That’s not to say there aren’t rows. Of course there are rows. But we have to sort of put those kinds of things aside, and come together, and do what’s best for our children.” Then a sort of guilty, pained look stole over Freddie’s face.

“And I’ll tell you something else as well, though I’d never say this in front of Freddie or Kash, I confess, I never wanted to have children. Well, perhaps that’s not entirely true. I mean I did quite like the _ concept _ of having children, but I just thought _ it’ll never happen_. I just didn’t think it was a good idea at the time. So when Mary came to me and asked me if I’d help her to have a child, initially I declined. I told her I’d rather have another cat,” Freddie said with a laugh, smoothing his moustache.

“But I could see that I’d hurt her deeply. And I can’t bear to hurt Mary. I mean, since the very beginning, Mary’s always been there for me when nobody else was. And I’m not ashamed to admit it, she helped me and supported me both emotionally and financially when we were just getting started as a band. And also at one point I had proposed, and we were actually engaged to be married. That didn’t work out, but I promised her I’d always take care of her, no matter what. So now I feel like I owe her, you know. I’m eternally in her debt. And I don’t mean that in a bad way. I don’t mean that in a bad sort of way at all. I just mean…it’s more like, I’m eternally grateful for all that she’s done, and went through, and sacrificed for me. So anyway, about having a child…I thought it over, and eventually I gave in. And at first I thought I’d made a terrible mistake. I thought, _ Oh God, what have I done? Me being a father? Can you imagine it? _But now I’m glad that I did. So anyway, that’s how it all came about. Two children – one boy, one girl. Perfect. That’s enough. I don’t want anymore,” Freddie said with a wave of his hand. 

“I mean I could never handle having all those children like the others do. I do well enough to take care of the two I’ve got now,” Freddie laughed, slapping Jim lightly on the knee.

“But now…” he said, with a sort of far-away look in his eye. “...they truly are the loves of my life, the apple of my eye. I couldn’t get along in this world without the three of them.” Then he looked over at Jim.

“But I couldn’t get along without you either, dear, I tell ya. The way you found Goliath the other night? You’re a keeper,” he said with a wink. Then he took Jim by the hand and led him upstairs. Freddie and Jim had certainly been taking advantage of the children’s absence – they’d been shagging like rabbits practically every night, lovemaking and steamy sex all mixed up together and rolled into one. They even had their own inside joke about it now.

“Are you randy?” Freddie had teased Jim one evening, furrowing his eyebrows suggestively.

“No, I’m Jim,” Jim had replied without missing a beat. Jim knew it was a stupid joke, but Freddie had burst out laughing all the same, not even bothering to try and hide his teeth.

“Well, that’s alright,” Freddie had said. “Screw Randy. I’d rather have Jim anyway.” And they’d both laughed again before falling into bed together…

One night about halfway through the week, they lay beside each other, basking in the sensual afterglow. Freddie lit a Silk Cut cigarette, and after the first exhale, he turned to Jim and said a very odd thing to him.

"I'm so sorry, darling, but this whole thing just isn't working out for me, you know? I mean the whole affair has just become quite impractical, darling. Quite impractical. It just won't do at all anymore." Jim turned his head to look at Freddie.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean this: your having to walk and take the bus to and fro from your flat every morning and evening. It's a complete waste of time. Time that could be better spent doing _ other things_," he grinned, mischievously. But then he turned serious.

"I know we haven't known each other a terribly long time. But I want you to know - I love you very much." And Jim could tell it wasn't an _ 'I love you' _ which just rolled off his tongue, Freddie meant it. "And do you love me?"

"Of course. I love you too," Jim had said.

"Well, then it's settled," Freddie had proclaimed.

"What's settled?" Jim asked. Freddie turned his head and stared into Jim's eyes.

"I want you to come and live with me here at Garden Lodge." Jim was speechless, he didn't know quite what to say.

"Well go on then and say yes, darling. I like to keep all the things that I love right at my fingertips - _ for easier access_," Freddie joked again, taking another drag on his cigarette. So at Freddie's urging, Jim had at last agreed. And he and Freddie would go on to live together like man and wife for the next six years there at Garden Lodge.

***

The next morning Freddie woke up with a horrible cold and sore throat. Suddenly he felt the all too familiar welling up in the back of his throat, a kind of retching, choking feeling. He got a terrible coughing attack. He sat up to cough and spit into some tissues, then leant over Jim to put the tissues in the bin. Jim woke up. Freddie was spluttering so badly, and when Jim saw what looked like blood-specked tissues in his hand, he became worried. Frightened even. But Freddie down-played the whole thing.

"No, no. Don't worry yourself, darling. It's alright. It's just this damn throat infection I've been suffering from for what feels like forever. It comes and goes, but it just never seems to go away entirely. As soon as I think I've completely gotten rid of it, it just flares right back up again," he said with another cough. His throat felt like a vulture's crotch, like he was rotting from the inside out. Jim was concerned, Freddie felt warm to the touch, like he had fever, and Jim suggested Freddie have Phoebe call and have a doctor come round. But Freddie just shook his head.

"Mm-mm." He downed two Paracetamol tablets with a swish of Stolichnaya vodka straight from a bottle that had taken up residence on the nightstand. “I hate doctors, and I avoid them like the plague whenever possible. Have I ever told you about how, once, a few years ago while I was staying in my flat in New York- I bought it because I was spending far too much money living out of hotels every night while we were touring and recording in America – but at any rate, while I was staying there, at one point I fell dreadfully ill, and Brian, Roger, and John they-” Jim didn’t understand why Freddie had suddenly stopped dead, right in the middle of his sentence, and now a deep blush was spreading over his face and neck like he was embarrassed, “-but anyway, [ that’s a story for another time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20858045/chapters/49580231),” he laughed, waving his hand dismissively. Then with a final cough, Freddie got up and began his day.

*******

Jim thought that, more than anything else, Freddie’s not wanting to go to the doctor’s probably had more to do with the fact that he was worried that they would take one look at him and forbid him outright from taking part in Live Aid, which in all honesty, they probably should. Freddie was clearly not well enough. Not well enough at all.

However, Freddie was determined to see this thing through. He would be just fine. He had his steam inhaler, a good supply of Strepsils throat lozenges, and Joe or Phoebe to make him a nice hot cup of tea or the hot honey and lemon drink that always seemed to soothe his throat, whenever he pleased.

But his not feeling well combined with the stress of the band's rehearsals and the anxiety of the upcoming performance at Live Aid, was beginning to take its toll on Freddie and he was in a bit of a mood and grumpy. So Jim did all he could to take care of Freddie, or rather what Freddie would allow him to do, which wasn’t much. And other than that, Jim kept his distance and tried to stay out of Freddie’s way so that he could relax and get some rest.

Little Freddie and Kashmira had come round on Thursday to ask, _ weren’t they going to get to go to Live Aid too? _Freddie had answered them honestly:

“I’m not sure yet. There are going to be a lot of people there. It could be dangerous for children. I’ll check with Brian and the others and see if they’re letting their children come, and then I’ll decide.” So the children had returned to Mary’s house disappointed, yet hopeful. But when they’d come around again on Friday asking the same question, Freddie had lost his temper.

“Now, look here. I’ve already told you about that yesterday. And don’t ask me again, or neither one of the two of you will be going anywhere at all!” he snapped. Kashmira started crying then because Freddie never raised his voice with her like that. 

Later, Freddie had phoned over to Mary's house to apologize, but the children were already in bed asleep.

*******

When Saturday finally rolled around, Jim had work down at the Savoy Hotel’s small barber’s shop concession. After finishing his work at the Savoy, Jim made his way to Garden Lodge. It was around 4 PM when he arrived. Little Freddie and Kashmira were sat on the sofa in the sitting room, watching Live Aid on television. The atmosphere was definitely dismal. The children both had on the saddest, pitifulest faces Jim had just about ever seen, and he saw Little Freddie scrubbing at unshed tears that were threatening to fall, so he thought Freddie must have decided it was too dangerous for the children and wasn't going to allow them to go. But he hadn't been invited to attend either. So he just stood there beside the sofa and they all three of them watched the television in silence. Then Freddie had walked in.

"Well my goodness! What's with all the long faces in here?" he asked jovially. "Aren't the three of you going to get ready, then?" Jim was still in his suit straight from work.

"What for?" he asked.

"You all are coming to Live Aid with me," Freddie told them. The children screamed, elated. Jim's mouth fell open. He’d never been to a concert before, a fact that Freddie didn’t know.

"I’ve got nothing to wear," he spluttered. 

"You don’t need anything," he replied. "Just get your jeans on and there are T-shirts in the wardrobe. Help yourself." So while Jim was getting dressed, Freddie called the children over to him. They were overcome with excitement so it took him a little while to get them to calm down and to listen to him.

"Is Mummy coming too?" Kashmira asked, jumping up and down.

"Yes, of course. Mummy's coming too. Now, listen. Listen to me," Freddie said. "I want to tell you something...I'm sorry I shouted at you yesterday. Daddy's sorry, ok? Daddy didn't mean to be cross. It's just that Daddy hasn't been feeling well lately and he's been a bit grumpy."

"A bit?" Phoebe and Joe asked together in unison.

"Ok, Daddy's been very grumpy," Freddie corrected himself. "But Daddy shouldn't have shouted at you like that, and Daddy's sorry, ok? Daddy can be a real meanie sometimes, can't he?" And then Freddie had to laugh when both children nodded their heads seriously in agreement.

"Are you sick, Daddy?" Kashmira asked.

"Yes, baby, Daddy's sick," Freddie told her.

"Oh no!" she proclaimed sadly, dramatically putting her hands to her cheeks. "What's wrong?"

"Don't worry, sweetheart. Daddy's just got a bit of a cold and a sore throat, that's all," he told her. "But if you were to give Daddy a big kiss right here," he said, indicating his cheek, "and a great big hug, he just might start feeling better." So of course Kashmira did as he asked. Freddie kissed and hugged her back. "Mmm, see? Daddy's starting to feel better already." 

Jim reappeared, and thank goodness Mary already had the children dressed and ready to go in anticipation - she knew Freddie wouldn't be able to tell the children no. Kashmira had on a pretty white dress and Little Freddie was dressed in a red polo shirt, dark blue jeans, a red cotton belt, and Adidas high top white trainers/wrestling boots of the same exact kind Freddie always wore. Freddie, of course, was wearing his faded ice-blue jeans, tight white vest, and black, studded amulet and belt. Soon a fleet of gleaming black limousines arrived to pick them up. Before leaving, Freddie insisted the television be left on so his babies (aka the cats) could watch him performing live. Then they were all quickly swept away in grandeur towards Wembley Stadium. Jim was on his way to see Queen perform live on stage for the very first time.

*******

They arrived at Wembley with about an hour to spare. Mary was prepared to take the children with her to the special seating that had been reserved for them. But Freddie put his hand on Little Freddie's shoulder.

"I want Freddie with me," he said. Kashmira began crying immediately because she wanted to be with Freddie as well. Freddie squatted down and took her hands in his.

"Don't cry, darling," Freddie told her, looking up into her eyes, "otherwise you're going to make Daddy cry too. And surely you don't want Daddy to cry, do you?" Kashmira shook her head. Freddie stroked her hair. "Listen, you stay right here with Mummy and watch for me on the stage, and I'll blow you a kiss. And then you have to blow me a kiss back, so I won't be nervous up there in front of all those people, alright?" Kashmira nodded her head, still crying. Freddie gave her a big kiss on the cheek, then he, Jim, and Little Freddie headed towards the backstage area. 

The special enclosure was awash with the country’s greatest rock performers. Jim was agog. To be behind the scenes at Wembley that day was incredible: the atmosphere was electric, and Freddie knew everyone. 

Each member of the band had his own dressing room trailer and all three wives were there – Chrissy May, Dominique Taylor and Veronica Deacon, as well as the May and Taylor children. But instead of mingling with the other Queen children, Little Freddie preferred to stay cuddled up close to Daddy. He leaned his head up against Freddie's shoulder and Freddie put his arm around him, pulling him in tight. Jim sat to Freddie's left. And Freddie sat in the middle, holding court from his throne. When Elton John came round to Freddie's trailer, he and Jim were introduced.

"This is my new man, Jim." Then Freddie looked down at Little Freddie. "And this one here is my young man. This is my son, Freddie. Handsome isn't he?" Elton gave a gasp.

"My God! He looks just like you!"

"Doesn't he though?" Freddie asked, face glowing with pride, and he couldn't help but give Little Freddie a kiss on the brow. All the introductions that day seemed to go the same way, followed by the usual inevitable questions:

"Does he write songs?"

"Yes, he has written several wonderful little pieces on the piano, which he plays beautifully, by the way. Even better than I do," Freddie laughed, smoothing his moustache.

"Does he sing?"

"Yes, he sings in the choir at school and he's got the sweetest voice you've ever heard. Sings just like a bird. And when he grows up, he's going to be a force to be reckoned with, I tell ya. The world had better watch out." And Little Freddie sat there, snuggled close, delighting in his father's admiration and praise. And Freddie didn't fail to mention Kashmira either.

"And I've also got a very beautiful little daughter, Kashmira. She's named for my younger sister. Right now she's sitting out there with her mother, Mary. I think she's going to be an actress when she grows up. A real drama queen, that one. But I suppose I shouldn't say too much. That'd sort of be like the pot calling the kettle black, now wouldn't?" Freddie laughed. "She comes by it honest enough."

Only a little while before they were set to perform, Brian and the others had wandered over to Freddie's trailer.

"How's the throat, Freddie?" Brian asked, leaning against the doorway, arms folded across his chest.

"Whatever do you mean, darling?" Freddie asked innocently. "My throat's just fine. Better than ever, actually." In fact, Freddie's throat was much worse, but he had been buzzing about in party mood all day and with so much adrenaline coursing through his veins, he hadn't even noticed the pain - until now. He swallowed and the saliva felt like a trillion razor blades slicing their way slowly down his throat.

"Come on now, Freddie. You ought to know by now that you can't hide anything from us. We've known each other for how long now? We know you better than you know yourself. We know you've been suffering from a sore throat for quite a while now. And that's why we've had a doctor called in to come and examine you," Brian told him.

"Oh no, Brian! I-" Freddie interjected at once, but Brian cut him off.

"I know. I know. You hate doctors. Always forcing their strange instruments down your throat," Brian smiled. "But it's too late. The doctor's already on his way. Geldof insisted."

"Oh, God damn it! Who the hell went and told Geldof, huh?" Freddie demanded angrily.

"I did," Brian said. "We just can't take any chances, Freddie. And if you don't submit to an examination, you won't be allowed to go on stage and perform." Freddie sat back with his arms crossed over his chest, defeated.

"Well, I just hope there aren't going to be any large needles involved this go-round," he huffed. The doctor arrived in short order to examine Freddie.

"Open," the doctor said, holding a tongue depressor and small torch (flashlight) towards Freddie. Freddie looked over at Brian, still at his post by the doorway.

"Freddie," Brian said his name warningly. So Freddie complied with the doctor's request and opened his mouth, allowing the doctor to examine his throat. And it was just as everyone had feared, straightway the doctor ordered Freddie not to go on stage and perform, or else risk losing his voice.

"You ought to be in bed for a week, Mr. Mercury," the doctor told him. Then the doctor left, and the other members of Queen turned dejectedly to go and begin packing up their things. But Freddie wasn’t having it.

"Alright, come on, let's go. Bowie's about to come off," he said, standing up and running a hand over his slicked back hair as he made sure his vest was tucked neatly into his trousers.

"No, Freddie. Absolutely not. You heard what the doctor said," Brian scolded. "You ought to be home in bed. You're not well enough to perform. You could lose your voice. Then where will we be?"

"Come on, mate. We'll come over and help Jim take care of you," Roger said.

"Like fuck you will! The three of you stay the hell away from me!" Freddie said, backing away. "Besides, I heard what the doctor said. I heard what he said, and he and Geldof can both fuck off. I don't care if I'm on my deathbed, I'm going out there to do my bit to help raise money for those poor starving children in Africa. And no one's gonna stop me, honey. Not even you, Brian."

"Well, good luck to you going out there without a backing band," Brian said to him.

"Alright, darling, if that's how you want to play it, then fine," Freddie replied. "I may only know three chords on the guitar, but at least I'll have the piano, and as for the rest, I suppose I'll just have to go out there and do it all acapella."

"You know, Brian. I think he might just be able to pull that off," John chimed in, offering his two pennies' worth. So it seemed Freddie and Brian found themselves in a sort-of Mexican standoff. They stood at twenty paces, staring each other down, until finally, Brian gave in.

"Alright, Freddie. You win. This time-" Brian said, stabbing a finger at him. "But don't go getting used to it." Freddie smiled, barely able to contain his laughter.

"Alright, my darlings," he said, knocking back a large vodka tonic. “Let’s do it.”

*******

Little Freddie and Jim walked to the stage with Freddie. Bowie had just come off and was sat wet through in front of an electric fan, trying to dry his hair. 

"That's about the only fan you’ve got, isn't it David?" Freddie quipped, and they both had a good laugh then.

Freddie stopped in the wings and right before going on, he kissed Jim on the cheek, then he put his hand on the back of Little Freddie's neck and gave him a kiss on the cheek as well.

"Wish me luck," he said.

"...Anyway, uh...it gives us enormous pleasure to introduce the next combo who are uh...HER MAJESTY - QUEEN!" The announcer man shouted.

Freddie jogged on stage, followed behind by the other members of Queen, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Watching spellbound from the wings, Jim witnessed the most magical twenty minutes of his life. Queen ruled the stage, launching straightway into a bit of “Bohemian Rhapsody” with Freddie on the piano. He blew Kashmira her kiss, and somewhere out there in the audience, Mary and Kashmira were cheering and waving and they both blew him a kiss back with Kashmira jumping up and down excitedly. Next came “Radio Ga Ga” with the crowd clapping wildly in unison, “Hammer to Fall”, then Freddie on his guitar for “Crazy Little Thing Called Love”, and “We Will Rock You”, and “We Are the Champions”, thundering away...to a simple guy like Jim, it was all just mind-boggling. At last he had seen the real Freddie Mercury at work, whipping seventy-two thousand people into a frenzy. He gave everything to his performance up there; nothing else mattered to him. Jim was amazed. And as the crowd cheered, Jim thought happily to himself, _ That’s my man! _

When Freddie came off, he kissed them both again, and then he took Little Freddie by the hand and rushed back to his trailer, with Jim tottering along behind like a puppy. Freddie seemed glad it was done.

“Thank God that’s over,” he laughed as Joe ripped his wet clothes from him and dressed him. Adrenalin still overflowing, Freddie knocked back another large vodka to calm himself. Then his face lit up. And his expression said: "Yes, we’ve done it!" For twenty minutes, he had held the whole world in the palm of his hand. He felt unstoppable, invincible. "Now if only I could get my children to obey me, like the way I did that crowd," he joked. Everyone backstage was converging on Freddie, Brian, Roger and John. As they stepped out of the trailer, they were met by a grinning Elton John. "You bastards," he said to Freddie. "You’ve stolen the show!" Geldof went on to say later: "Queen were simply the best band of the day."

Later on, once it had got dark, Freddie and Brian went back on stage together, just the two of them, to perform the wonderful ballad “Is This the World We Created?" The words were so right, and the way Freddie sang them was so magical that it moved Jim to tears. 

They stayed until the end of the show to catch up with everyone, but Freddie didn’t want to bother with the after-show party at Legends nightclub. The children were tired and needed to be in bed, plus now that all the excitement was beginning to wane, his throat was really starting to hurt him quite a bit. Instead, he and Jim went home to Garden Lodge like an old married couple, to watch the rest of the American leg of the amazing concert on television.

When they fell into bed later on that night, Freddie cuddled up to Jim and whispered, "Did you enjoy it?"

"What do you think?" Jim answered, hugging him tight. "It’s the first time I’ve ever been to a concert."

"You’re joking," Freddie said.

"No," Jim chuckled. Freddie was dumbfounded. Jim fell asleep knowing that for the first time he'd actually seen the real star Freddie Mercury doing what he did best – wowing the world.

***

The next morning Live Aid seemed an age away to Freddie, but not to Jim. When he got to the Savoy on Monday morning, the music was still pounding in his ears.

At school, Little Freddie was mobbed and forced to regale the other students with stories of the excitement of the going-ons at Live Aid. He proudly showed off all the autographs he’d managed to collect for himself: Paul McCartney, Status Quo, Sting, U2, Dire Straits.

“That’s so cool, Freddie,” a pretty girl with braces and long brown hair smiled at him. Little Freddie smiled back sheepishly. But just then his tormentors decided to show up.

“Well, if isn’t Freddie the Fag,” the leader, a boy named Simon, said. The other boys snickered. Little Freddie immediately felt the heat of embarrassment creeping up his neck. But then his father’s words came back to him and he remembered what Freddie had told him to say.

He whipped around to face them and affecting the campest voice possible, he said: “Actually, I’m not gay, sweetheart.”

“Oh, yeah? Well you sure act like it,” the boy said, looking at the others around him. The other boys all voiced their agreement.

“No, dear. I’m straight as the pole your mother dances on, honey. And when your father has as many fans as mine does, then we can have this conversation again, darling. Until then, fuck off.” And with that Little Freddie snapped his fingers and turned on his heel.

"Ciao," he called as he walked away. Everyone stood there for a moment shocked into a stunned silence, then all the other students turned and ran after Little Freddie, leaving the boys standing there with their mouths hanging open.

*******

As expected, Little Freddie had gotten into trouble with the headmaster at his school, and was sent home with a note for Freddie to sign. Freddie took the note and read it seriously, furrowing his brow and mouthing the words silently to himself. Then he burst out laughing. He got his pen and signed his name F. Mercury. And he said it was one of the happiest autographs he had ever had the pleasure to sign.

“One more time, Freddie. How did it go again?” Freddie asked, after Kashmira had gone to bed. He, Jim, Phoebe, and Joe slapped their knees, tears of laughter in their eyes as Little Freddie reenacted the scene. Freddie looked over at Jim.

“You and I are going to have a real hell of a time raising this one, I tell ya,” he said. He gave Jim a kiss and then turned back to watch the scene. Jim was suddenly reminded of a line from Freddie’s song _I Was Born To Love You_: “_It’s so hard to believe this is happening to me, an amazing feeling coming through_.” That summed up just how he felt at that moment. He was happy with life, quite content with his lot, and he felt he was the luckiest man in all the world. He wouldn’t trade this for anything – not for gold, silver, or precious jewels.

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Many sources say that at the time of Live Aid, Freddie Mercury was suffering from a severe throat infection, which makes his amazing performace that much more astounding. Backstage, a doctor was called to examine him and it was decided he was simply too ill to perform. However, Freddie wasn’t going to be stopped. He absolutely insisted on going on stage and performing.*
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and for all the kind comments, kudos, and support. It means a lot to me and I really appreciate it. I hope you've enjoyed it. :)

**Author's Note:**

> I would really appreciate no criticism (constructive or otherwise), or negativity in the comments section, please. This is just my hobby that I do for fun. Thank you! :)
> 
> Copyright © May 20, 2020 DonnieTheFu All Rights Reserved
> 
> ***DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Any semblance between original characters and real persons, living or dead, is coincidental. The author in no way represents the companies, corporations, or brands mentioned in this work. The likeness of historical/famous figures have been used fictitiously; the author does not speak for or represent these people. All opinions expressed in this work are the author’s, or fictional.***


End file.
